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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841068">How To Make An Entrance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter'>Suzie_Shooter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Back Channels [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Humour, M/M, Origin Story, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, tv-verse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:34:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Smithers and Wolf's first meeting - written for the prompt: <i>a young Wolf, who has just finished SAS training...and then there's this slightly older, very sophisticated tech dude who keeps eyeing him...</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Smithers/Wolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Back Channels [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>How To Make An Entrance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This wasn’t quite how Wolf had pictured the start of his first assignment as an official member of a special forces team. He’d thought he’d be stealthily paddling up a jungle backwater, or jumping out of a helicopter in the desert. Instead he was sitting in a dingy conference room somewhere in north London on a chair that was too small for him, waiting to be briefed by some twat in a suit.</p><p>“Good morning. Sorry to keep you.” The door opened and a black man in a tweed jacket came in carrying a crate of odds and ends that gave the impression he’d just been fired and told to clear his desk.</p><p>“Who are you?” Wolf demanded, getting to his feet and intent on stamping his authority right from the off. This wasn’t the guy in charge, he knew that much, and frankly it was an insult if they were being palmed off on some lackey. </p><p>“My name’s Smithers.” He smiled hopefully, and Wolf glared at him.</p><p>“Smithers? What kind of a name is Smithers? Might as well expect me to believe your name’s Jeeves.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, this from a man who picked the codename Wilf?”</p><p>“Wolf!” Wolf corrected indignantly. “Wolf!”</p><p>Smithers cocked his head. “Can anyone else hear barking?”</p><p>Wolf balled his fist, but he had the self-control not to say what he was thinking and the intelligence to realise (a) he was being deliberately baited, (b) that he probably deserved it and (c) this guy knew who he was without being told and that meant he had a worrying clearance level.</p><p>Smithers was watching him with interest to see what he’d do next, and when that turned out to be nothing he gave a satisfied little nod. </p><p>“You’re the best,” he said, turning away to dump his box on the table behind him. “All of you. Top of the crop. It’s why you’re here.”</p><p>Eagle cautiously raised her hand, and he nodded encouragingly.</p><p>“There were others who scored higher in some areas,” she said. Wolf glared at her, embarrassed on the group’s behalf, but Smithers gave her an approving smile.</p><p>“I mean, just passing the training already puts you in the top ten percent of the candidates but yes, there were one or two others who may have had a higher aptitude for carrying half a ton of bricks up a Welsh mountain. But you – each of you – have shown particular resourcefulness or talent in some area or other. Which is why you’ve been put together. And why you’re here, today. We have an – interest in you, you see.”</p><p>“Who’s we?” Wolf demanded suspiciously.</p><p>“MI6 Special Operations.”</p><p>“Spooks.” Wolf managed to imbue the word with dripping disgust.</p><p>“If you like.”  </p><p> “We’re soldiers. What do you want with us?”</p><p>Smithers gave him an assessing up and down look and arched one suggestive eyebrow. </p><p>Wolf was dressed in combat trousers and a khaki t-shirt that was only just managing not to rip around his biceps. He suspected Smithers was trying to provoke him again, either as some kind of test or just because he was a bastard. But this time it wasn’t going to work because while he might look like a macho nightmare Wolf was also as gay as a summer fete and just stared back at him impassively, letting him get an eye-full. </p><p>Smithers’ smile this time was amused, and just appreciative enough that Wolf wondered for the first time if it hadn’t been entirely a wind-up. Not that he had the slightest intention of getting mixed up with someone from Intelligence. Twisty bastards, the lot of them.</p><p>“Occasionally the sneaky approach needs a little muscle behind it,” Smithers conceded. “Extractions, and so on. Insertions, too,” he added as an afterthought, and behind him Wolf heard Eagle stifle a cough. “That’s where you come in.”</p><p>“And where do you come?” Wolf retorted.</p><p>Smithers opened his mouth and then clearly thought better of whatever he’d been about to say, possibly because Eagle by now looked like she needed someone to administer the Heimlich manoeuvre. </p><p>Instead, Smithers patted the box beside him absent-mindedly. Something immediately started ominously ticking. </p><p>“You’re the survival specialists, it’s why you’re here. My job, is to provide that little extra edge that might just keep you alive when all else fails.” </p><p>“Gadgets,” Wolf said, curling his lip. “We’re not children.”</p><p>“And I assure you, these aren’t toys.” </p><p>It was at this point that the desk blew up behind him. </p><p>As Wolf picked bits of laminated wood out of his hair and reflected on the fact that of all the people in the room Smithers was the only one not to have flinched, he conceded that maybe he was worth getting to know after all.</p><p>–</p>
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